


Shiori's Letters

by ShadowedMiracles



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, Same-Sex Marriage, Self-Conflict, sorry I'm not good with tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 16:27:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9333377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowedMiracles/pseuds/ShadowedMiracles
Summary: The only way Seijuro knows how to live is by always moving forward, and never looking back. However, that belief gets tested when Tetsuya discovers letters that Shiori left for her son, and causes Seijuro to question whether he wants to open a wound that never closed, or let ghosts remain lying.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This piece has been in my head forever, but it’s really only because of Agapantoblu‘s encouragement that I finally stopped procrastinating and wrote it. I’m aware that there’s an awful lot of fluff, and there are probably some questions after reading it, but just know that this is actually more like an epilogue to a whole two other stories that I may or may not ever write. We’ll see what happens. Also, I’m terrible at writing endings, I’ve never known how to do it and would love some advice on that if someone feels up to it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and please feel free to send me comments and critiques if you want. -Cambria

The house that Seijuro grew up in was just as quiet with no one living there, as it was even when his mother had been alive. Now, with his father having been laid to rest beside his mother so many years before, it truly felt like the ghost house he’d imagined it to be as a child.

Seijuro hadn’t stepped inside the house since his father’s early passing. Quite often, he considered selling the estate, having no need for it considering how comfortable he was in the house he’d claimed with Tetsuya. There was nothing left for him in the old place except his roots, and the pride of his ancestors who’d worked so hard to claim and keep the house. Other than that, there wasn’t much else that was preventing him from selling it. It was filled with too much sorrow and insecurity that he’d fought so hard to live past.

Despite his mixed feelings for the house though, he and Tetsuya had spent a whole day moving through each room, deciding things that ought to be preserved, what could be either given away or sold, and what was simply garbage. The four stacks of boxes that dominated the sitting room were evidence of their hard work and perseverance.

In the end, Seijuro was glad Tetsuya had talked him out of simply letting go of everything in the house. He’d found a few items worth holding onto, though nothing more than what could fill a few boxes. In fact, in comparison to the mountain of things to get rid of, it almost made him wonder if he ought to reexamine the items and decide if they were really worth keeping, or if he was being overly sentimental.

“Seijuro.” Before he could decide, the red-head jumped and turned to face his partner with a startled scowl, only to have all that frustration knocked out of him almost instantly.

Tetsuya wasn’t even looking at him, his gaze locked on the two small wood boxes stacked in his hands, but Seijuro could clearly see his lips and brow pressed into a thoughtful frown.

“What’s wrong?” The red-head asked, reaching out to take the boxes from Tetsuya, only to have his husband pull them away and finally look at him with something akin to the determination Seijuro saw him carry when they played basketball in high school.

“We aren’t throwing these away.” The blue-haired man stated firmly, causing confusion from Seijuro.

“What are they?”

“Swear that you won’t throw them away”

“Tell me what they are.”

“Swear it, Seijuro.”

“Fine, we won’t throw them away.” Seijuro conceded, feeling that if his partner to argue over for it, then it must be important. Though, even with his husband’s promise, Tetsuya still waited a moment before relaxing and bringing the boxes back within Seijuro’s reach.

“They seem like letters from your mother.” The red head stiffened, now realizing why Tetsuya had been so adamant before. “I only read a bit of one of them, but it sounds like she wrote them after finding out that she was going to die.”

It took everything in Seijuro to keep appearing calm as his emotions peaked and fell with his shuffling thoughts. Too many thoughts overwhelmed him at once, and he didn’t know which ones to focus on and accept. He was excited to have found something from her that was meant for him, and yet… “I don’t want them.”

“Seijuro-”

“She’s gone. Those letters don’t serve any purpose. I’m happy with my life now, I don’t need to dig up the past.” He almost believed himself, but he doubted that Tetsuya would miss the way his voice wavered or how he was breathing too deep to appear as unaffected as he tried to sound.

There was only a moment of silence before Tetsuya broke it, “Then I’m keeping them for myself.”

The red head sighed, crossing his arms, “You can’t, those letters are to me, so they are mine to decide what to do with them.”

“You just said you didn’t want them, and you already claimed that we wouldn’t throw them away. Are you a liar, Seijuro?” The red head would never forget how dirty his husband could play, and yet, he knew Tetsuya would say he was simply stating facts.

“I’m not. They’ll stay in this house.” Seijuro argued, though he wasn’t confident that the matter would be dropped.

“That’s the same as throwing them away.”

“They’re simply being put back in storage.”

“We can store them at our house.”

“They’ll just take up unnecessary space.”

“Either I take the letters, or the boxes of baby and childhood pictures I also found.”

“Take the pictures.”

“I’m taking both.”

“Tetsuya!” Seijuro was at his wits end. He did not want those letters in his house, where he would always be aware of their presence. Though, he also didn’t want Tetsuya mad at him, and it was very obvious he would at least be disappointed if Seijuro refused him this one simple thing.

“I won’t tell you where I store them, so you won’t even know where they are. If we don’t touch them by the next time we clean out that part of the house, then I’ll get rid of them. I just don’t think you should be so quick to set aside something from your mother.” It was a simple, selfless logic that Seijuro couldn’t fight. He never could fight it, not that he had ever truly tried. He appreciated the logic with which Tetsuya approached most things, it contrasted the emotional peaks Seijuro sometimes found himself in, that would overwhelm him unless he was able to cut it off.

“Fine,” Seijuro sighed and dropped his defensive stance, which he knew that Tetsuya would translate to ‘you’re right’, as was almost immediately proven by his husband’s smile that seemed almost relieved. 

He might have teased Tetsuya for it, just to send to tense topic off on a tangent, but he really couldn’t even form a witty thought. Though it became irrelevant just a breaths time later when Tetsuya initiated his own distraction by reaching a hand across the space, caressing the tips of Seijuro’s fingers with his own until Seijuro gently took hold of a finger and brought it to his lips.

Neither of them could pinpoint the origin of the silly, cliche gesture. They only knew, that at this point in their lives, it was almost like a routine that over the years had expressed so many things: happiness, apology, sympathy, support, forgiveness, contentment, and so much more. It didn’t need to be explained what the gesture was supposed to mean, because the reply, a simple kiss, meant the acceptance of whatever the other was giving or asking for. At that point, meanings didn’t matter, only that they were still united at the end of it all.


	2. Chapter 2

For all the horror stories parents had of new born's and toddler's, Seijuro had to wonder if they were exaggerated, or if perhaps he and Tetsuya had simply adopted the most well behaved baby. In the few months since Katsumi had been adopted, she’d hardly been fussy and was very good about sleeping. More than once, Seijuro had worried that maybe something had happened to make her so quiet, but Tetsuya’s mother had assured both of them that Tetsuya had been very similair when he was a baby, and not to worry too much. Still, it didn’t stop Seijuro from being amazed at how deeply she slept, as she was currently.

She was curled on her side, clinging to Tetsuya’s wrist like it was one of her toys, and Seijuro found the sight warming and amusing all at once. He glanced toward his husband’s sleeping face, wondering if the nap had been planned, or if he simply gave in, not wanting to break her iron grip on him.

Seijuro laughed softly at the thought as he reached out in a subconscious action and softly rubbed Katsumi’s stomach. She reacted with a sigh, and kicked one foot, causing Seijuro to laugh again and reach down to playfully tug on the offended appendage. He noticed her foot was cold to the touch and he frowned before getting up from his crouch and went to her room to find socks.

Katsumi’s room was simple: A dresser with a changing table on top, some shelves with essential supplies, and a few toys on top of a toddler bed that she would eventually sleep in when they decided to stop co-sleeping. There were very few decorations as they both agreed it wasn’t much good since the room was so barely used. They decided it would be decorated once she moved in and her interests were more apparent.

Logic told Seijuro that socks would be kept in the top drawer of the dresser, and upon inspection, he proved himself right. There was a variety of colored and plain socks alongside similar diaper covers, and next to them were two small wooden boxes that seemed so un-special. Except, burned into the wood were the characters that spelled Shiori Akashi.

Seijuro almost instantly closed the drawer when he remembered those boxes. Remembered the conviction he had used less than a year ago when he had told Tetsuya that he didn’t want the boxes that were apparently filled with letters addressed to him from his mother. At the time, he had been certain that he didn’t want to dig up the past, that he was too content with his life to go digging up memories that would undoubtedly hurt. Yet, he now faced another emotion that seemed to spread in his mind; curiosity. A wonder of what his mother had spent her time writing in letters that she couldn’t tell him when he was little. A desire to know if question's unanswered by his father would be given peace by his late mother.

‘Curiosity killed the cat’, Seijuro thought as a finger tapped against the wood of the dresser drawer, ‘but satisfaction brought it back’. It was almost like someone else had answered for him, even though he knew that was absolutely impossible. Either way, he sighed in an almost defeated manner and took both of the boxes from the drawer, and sat on the floor, leaning against the bed.

He opened both boxes, finding one full and the other almost. All the letters were stacked on their sides, and laid in the box so that any could be pulled without disturbing the others. A glance around the full box had him finding a date written on the corner of a letter, and a look through revealed that all the letter's had dates that increased as one went deeper.

Seijuro took hold of the letter with the oldest date between his thumb and forefinger, but hesitated. He still wasn’t sure if he wanted to read the letters, but he’d come this far, so he knew that meant there was a part of him that wanted to. Though which part that was, he had no idea. Mentally he called himself a coward and pulled out the letter, opening it with shaking hands that he tried to gain control of as he pulled out the piece of paper and started to read:

_Seijuro,_

_Despite the warm summer sun that is reaching into my office while you study in your own space, I can feel bumps rising on my arms as if I am cold. I think it’s finally starting to dawn on me that my time is limited, and I regret not starting these letters three months ago when the doctor suggested it to cope with the situation. Though, I don’t think I ever really knew what I should say to you in these letters._

_I can’t imagine an older version of you who would understand all that I want to tell you; it’s like my mind refuses to see anything other than the little boy who loves to play, and tries so hard to make people happy, especially your father and me._

_I’m so sorry for how difficult we’ve made your life. I’ve tried to ease the stress by giving you an outlet, but I have to wonder, if there will be a day when even that becomes corrupted by the weight and expectations of the family name. If that day comes, I hope you can forgive me for providing you with another target for stress. I hope that if you ever reach the point of breaking, but find your way back, and you do forgive me, that you’ll forgive your father too._ _I know he seems so cold and un-moving, but know that underneath it all, there is so much love. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you got the desire to please others and seek approval from him. It was those traits that made him crumble beneath the pressure of what it means to be an Akashi, and I’m the one who holds the most blame for that._

_I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for this first letter to be a confessional, I didn’t want it to be sad. If it was possible, I would want you to only remember and know of the happiness in our family. However, it wouldn’t be fair to cut out the truth in favor of tempered stories. I think I have enough time to save those stories for later though, and if fate is on our side, maybe I’ll be able to tell you everything in person one day. Nothing would make me happier than having the chance to watch you grow up, and see the kind of man you become. I want to know the passions you pick up, and the people you’ll surround yourself with. It would mean the world to me if I could see who you choose to spend your life with, or if you choose anyone at all. Though, I would try to figure out if your father’s trepid outlook on people had any effect on you, if you didn’t choose anyone._

_Your lesson should be over soon, so I’ll end this letter here. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it from being sad, I will try harder to not do so in the letters after this one._

_To end on a warmer note, please know that no matter what, I love you, and I regret nothing that is tied to your existence in my life._

_I hope and pray that you are at least content with your life._

_-Mother_

Seijuro looked away from the paper that shook more violently than before in his hands, and glared at the ceiling of his daughter’s bedroom, demanding that he not cry. Yet, he couldn’t stop it. He regretted reading the letter, and at the same time, he was relieved that he did. In his hands was a piece of his mother that he’d never been allowed to view as a child. It filled a gap in his image of her that he’d spent a lifetime holding onto and building upon in his mind. However, it also caused pain that seemed impossibly physical, because he’d never been allowed to see that part of her with his own eyes.

With a much needed gasp of air, the wall around his tempest of emotions fluttered away as if it were made of feathers. he drew his knees to his aching chest, and cried in a way he’d never allowed himself to. He tried not to be too loud so as not to disturb Tetsuya and Katsumi, but he must have failed, for far sooner than he was ready for, Tetsuya was rushing into the room, panic clear in his voice even though Seijuro couldn’t quite make out his exact words. Then, there were arms catching him, and Seijuro tried to push them away, to reject the comfort. Yet, when they retreated, he still ended up leaning against his husband’s shoulder.

If he were able to feel any other emotions, he would probably mirror the confusion that Tetsuya was surely showing. He didn’t know what to do for himself in that moment, so surely Tetsuya was just as lost. Yet, Tetsuya still tried, shifting to sit next to him and caressed his fingers through Seijuro’s hair until he calmed down.

When he did, Seijuro was granted a few moments of calm to collect his thoughts before Tetsuya broke the silence again in a quiet voice, “Do you want to talk about it?”

There was no pause before Seijuro rocked his head against Tetsuya’s shoulder and answer hoarsely, “Not yet.” Tetsuya sighed, but consented, and Seijuro was grateful that he didn’t push.

Almost hesitantly, Seijuro reached towards the hand that rested on his thigh and slipped his own under until their palms were pressed together, and squeezed gently. His answer came in the form of Tetsuya pressing a kiss to his temple before resting his head against Seijuro's, so red and blue mingled together, and let out another sigh as he continued to run his fingers through red strands.


End file.
